


A Toy at the Hand of Demons

by I_Am_Fire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Multi, Teacher-Student Relationship, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-06-08
Updated: 2004-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2668682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Fire/pseuds/I_Am_Fire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A work created several years back by a friend :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Caught

**Author's Note:**

> A work created several years back by a friend :)

Hermione Granger is breaking the rules. Again. Of course. it all started out as a simple, slightly naughty mistake, but now it turned into a daily habit. Therefore, there Hermione Granger was, the Head Girl of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, breaking another Merlin-knows-how-many-rules in the darkness of the night.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

It all started out during the second month of school. Hermione was in one place Harry and Ron were sure to find her if they cared to look. The library. After discovering (not without the use of the Marauder’s Map) that the library had a secret entrance of which Madame Pince-the librarian knew not of, the young witch spent long nights in the book sanctuary hungrily absorbing information. This was another night much like others, when during late hour Hermione used the privileges of the Head Girl - being able to be out later than others, to sneak in to the library. Heading for the tapestry on the second floor she stole a quick glance at the Marauders Map which Harry let her borrow. Seeing her tiny self on the map she neared the entrance. Following the appearing instructions of the map, Hermione tapped the tapestry lightly, with a barely-heard whisper “Vivat scientia”.

The tapestry budged inward revealing a wooden door with a creak that made Hermione’s heart race. The last thing she wanted to happen is to get caught. Barely breathing, the girl slipped in finding herself in the student-reading section. As quiet as humanly possible, she headed for the restricted section.

The young witch has taken a recent interest in amulets and now, under the cover of the night, was sitting in the furthest corner of the Restricted Section, almost completely hidden by books, examining a curious little object. It seemed to be a moonstone opal in the shape of a teardrop fixated in a simple silver necklace, shimmering like a lonely star under the light of an oil lamp. Hermione has received the pendant as a Christmas present from her parents, and whilst she knew the likelihood of the talisman holding any secret magic was next to zero she decided to run some simple tests. She has already tried several spells, starting with Aparecium to check for any hidden writing on the silver bail, clasp of stone fixator, but no such luck.

Absentmindedly flipping through an ancient copy of “Powerful Talismans and Amulets or How to Cheat Death”  to the light of the flickering oil lamp she flicked her wand murmuring “Specialis Revelio”.

To her shocked surprise something did happen. Not with the elegant necklace, which the girl clutched with fear, but with what appeared to be a heavy marble pedestal with dry flowers. It began to change into a bookshelf. That was half the problem. The other half was that the low wooden bookshelf, which now stood firmly where the decorative piece was, was not empty. It was almost bursting with magazines and thin books.

Not just any reading material , as Hermione discovered. Picking up one at random, the girl flinched in surprise as she saw the material. Porno. Not the lame Playbook magazines and the silly pinups Hermione saw in the muggle world, these pictures were developed using the Motus Effigies solution. Taking a glance around, Hermione turned the page.

Ohhh, she could feel the pulsating hotness slowly starting between her legs as she looked onto the first picture. A man of great built was standing before a witch who was kneeling. The man had his hand tangled in the woman’s hair, guiding to take his manhood into her mouth. Hermione could feel her knickers getting wet as she watched the witch give the impressive manhood a lick and begin a erotical blowjob as she swirled her tongue around the man’s shaft, bobbing her head up and down, holding the base with one hand while the other rubbed her own dripping pussy.

Turning to the next scene, Hermione’s finger were tauntingly stroking her clit though her skirt, her body desperate for more touch. The next picture showed a different witch laying on her back on a low couch, with the man position over her, each leg on either side of her ribs, slowly fucking her great breasts, dragging his cock out between them and pushing back.

As Hermione continued to watch the scene play over and over again, her fingers found their way under the soft elastic of her knickers and were stroking faster and faster to match the rhythm of the man in the scene. Small muscle spasm passed through her thighs to her toes as the flipped the pages faster and faster, feeling herself get closer to the immensely pleasurable breaking point. She pleasured herself breathlessly as she reached the final page, showing yet other witch riding the man, his giant member sliding in and out of her slick pink womanhood. The girl's eyes rolled with pleasure as her hand hit the special bundle of nerves making her body shake.

Hermione’s back arched as she reached the searing orgasm. A second later she was breathing heavily, gasping for air.

It took her another half an hour to recover and compose herself. She put the magazine back onto the small bookshelf, tapping the wooden shelf with the whisper “Finite Incantatem”

Precisely seven minutes later Hermione Granger was in her bed, falling asleep with a satisfied smile on her face, the echo of that overwhelming pleasure.

 

The marble podium with dry, ugly flowers stood innocently under the moonlight in the library.

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

That was several weeks ago, yet this night found the Head Girl  tapping the tapestry, and light as a feather, slipping in. It has become an addicting habit, for the the seemingly prudish Hermione Granger to come here every night, reaching her orgasms on the pillows and cushions of couch chairs in the reading spread, her legs spread, and small moans escaping her lips.

Another magazine was laying beside her, but she was not looking at it. Her skin felt hot, yet crawling with goosebumps despite the softly lit fireplace filling the room with soft crackling. Her eyes were almost completely closed, the eyelids fluttering as she slowly fingered herself wet. Her body, taut as a bowstring was basking in waves of pleasure.

A second later her body was screaming in shock. A large hand covered her mouth, as other arm lifted her off the couch, pressing her back into whoever was gripping her. She struggled as she felt the hand that lifted her up snake its way under the hem of her skirt, under her knickers and over her slick fingers starting to gently stroke her wetness.

“So wet” a dark voice whispered into the crook of her neck as Hermione felt the draw of sharp teeth on her tender skin.

She tried to scream, tried to struggle tried to bite just to escape.

“So….innocent” another hiss before she heard “Obscuro” and felt and blindfold settle over her eyes.

The man (for Hermione knew it was a man from the deep growling voice) almost dragged her off to somewhere. She continued to struggle against the iron grip but to no avail. One hand was still firmly placed over her mouth, whilst the second would slip to her breast or her arse to grope her, or to partially carry her each time she had enough strength to fight the grasp.

The struggling child felt the man take several flights of stairs down; the cold air began giving her exposed skin goosebumps. Finally she felt herself being dragged into a room, slightly warmer than wherever she was just dragged from. She jerked several time trying to get herself free, desperately trying not to cry. Her mind frantically searching itself on what to do. The fear came split moments later.

“Lucius,what are you?-” a rich deep voice.

“Shhh Severus. I brought you a little present” the voice behind her growled deeply.


	2. Brandished for Sinful Hands

Hermione’s body froze. All her muscles were clenched with fear and confusing arousal which still had not faded, her body tense and scared. The blindfold was still obscuring her view but she could sense the light of a fireplace or a torch from under it, her skin in goosebumps from the changing waves of smooth warm air from the room and biting drafts of cold wind from wherever she got brought in from.

Lucius, for it was he that took the struggling child lost in barely known pleasures from the library, dragged her forward, in the direction that the second voice came from.

“Lucius, for the love of- Is that a student?-” the potions Master’s voice seemed closer now, the surprise in his voice seeping with sadistic pleasure of seeing the tiny girl struggle against Malfoy’s iron grip.

“Shhhh” the hissing sound right behind made her shudder. Hermione felt the fear soaking in to her - her heart dropped as she realized that the closeness of the man behind her made her thighs clench and squirm not in fear of getting hurt but in apprehension of something….but what?.

“Apperi” with Professor Snape’s voice the silk over her eyes was gone and she was blinded even by the gentle light of the fireplace, desperate to get a look at what was happening to her.

Professor Snape was sitting in a deep armchair not two feet away from her, his eyes predatory and smoldering as he twirled his wand with his long white fingers. Gasping she felt a hand at her throat, not quite choking her, but locked tightly enough to cause discomfort as the fingers gently stroked the soft skin. She began to tremble as she felt the other hand slide down her side, hugging every curve of her waist and hip as it snaked its way to the heat of her.

“P-pr-professor” she barely gasped, breathless.

  
Snape watched her every move as the child eyes fluttered, her petite body not strong enough to pull the hand away, but not trying to either, just holding on tight, her body screaming for more. A raw expression swept his face, his nails holding from clawing the armchair handrest as he watched the annoying know-it-all squeak under Malfoy’s touch, locked in the blond aristocrat’s grip, his lips pale trailing at the girls neck.

 Lucius’s eyes were too locked on the girl, watching her innocent reaction to his sinner touch with a dangerous smile playing across his lips. The child gave a barely heard cry as his hand reached her. Entire body shaking, her legs hardly supporting her weight, as she almost hung on Malfoy’s corrupting arms.Her back arched into Lucius as his clever fingers played across her most sensitive spot. Continuing to play with her lost body, Lucius addressed Snape, his voice like dark smoke sucking into her pores.

 “Ah, look where I found this little gryffindor” his voiced rolled deeply and Hermione’s mind barely noted the sound of a landing magazine. Small moans were escaping her now, her mind and body lost and confused in terrible pleasure.

 “Naughty, naughty Gryffindor” she felt like an ice cold bucket was poured in her, the pleasuring hand gone from her, a third hand gently cupping her cheek, her eyes focusing on the towering figure of Professor Snape.

A shudder went through her as a cold white hand burnt her loins and mercilessly flicked across her clit.

“And do you know what happens to naughty girls, Ms Granger?” Snape's voice was coming from so far away, her body at the edge of her release. His hand moved faster, as Lucius laughed darkly, enjoying such a beautiful display.

“They get punished.” cruel arms around her, cruel arms causing unbearable pleasure.

Her moaning cry echoed across the room as she came on his hand, her mind losing grip on consciousness from the overwhelming pleasure.

* * *

* * *

Her mind was swimming in the most blissful dimensions - the pleasure of her orgasm still carrying her on it’s wings and the cruel reality foggy and distant. Swirls and circles swimming before her eyes Hermione never wanted to leave this feeling. Her captors had a different mind. She felt first a cold wave then a burning hot wave pass her body as Malfoy brought her back to the painful reality with a distracted flick of his wand.

The girl focused her vision right in front of herself, her eyes meeting the collarpiece of Professor Snape’s frock coat. Normally she wouldn't be able to see this high, but right now her toes were barely brushing the stone floor - her body was helplessly trapped in Lucius’s arms.

Timidly she looked up only to meet predatory eyes burning her. She couldn’t break the eye contact as she fascinatedly watched her Potion Master slowly lick his fingers clean with a surprisingly red tongue which darted to catch the runway juices on his hand.

Her breathing became ragged as he stepped closer, the heat of his body nearing her and somehow sending shivers instead of warmth down her spine.

“What would the goody-two-shoes Gryffindor be doing out so late at night, hmmmm?” voice dark and mocking Severus’s body was too close to her; she began to tremble again, this time from sweet wantom at his dark voice and at the touch of Malfoy’s hands which were gently massaging her shoulders. Despite just reaching her peak she felt herself getting hot and wet again under their touch, squirming, her mind screaming no but her body denying it.

Some tiny voice in the back of her mind was screaming…But her senses were too strained begging for more to care. A small moan escaped her throat as Snape’s arm reached behind to grab her ass, squeezing it without mercy; Lucius’s hands were still gently roaming her body resting slightly on her painfully aching breasts.

“Now, lets see what the little Mudblood learned during her nighttime adventures shall we” Malfoy’s voice like dripping silk just beside her ear, his hot breath burning her cheek.

The girl stumbled and fell to her knees as the man behind her let her go.

Dark. deep chuckles sent more shivers down her body.

“Ah, Ms. Granger...so eager” the dark voice above her mocked as she raised her eyes to see Snape’s bulging erection inches away from her face.

Her mouth watered. She has never been with a man before, never been bedded by anyone. She was a pure inexperienced virgin, with only knowledge from what her late time adventures has taught her from the shape shifting pedestal.

She reached her tiny hand to him, not sure, looking up to see approval, encouragement, any sign of emotion, just to find an arched eyebrow and a smoldering gaze. Swallowing hard she placed her hand on his erection, her quivering fingers looking pale and thin on the dark material. She swallowed again, feeling the radiating heat with the skin of her palm.

Her second hand searched behind her for Lucius; all her usual common sense gone, now just innocent and at the same time raw lust growing between her legs.Stroking both predatory men through the material, Hermione gently took her hand off Malfoy, reaching both hands to Severus’s belt to undo it, hands shaking and fearful of being pushed away. Still no reaction from either, just a small condescending and teasing smile hiding in the very corners of Malfoy's lips as the blond man came almost right up against her as his hands moved to his own belt.

Both erections sprung out at the same time. The girl watched with fascination the two enormous shafts right in front of her, the veins pulsating and the glistening drops of precome on the heads. Both men were watching her, their gaze looking, piercing through her, as she gazed for her first time, her mouth open, eyes wide.

She reached for both like a child reaches for it’s favourite toy; desperate to please, to taste, to show herself.

Her fingers barely closed around them and she began to move her hand up and down, occasionally sliding over the head the way she saw in one of the magazines some time ago.Her movements, awkward at first, found a steady rhythm.

Feeling a hand in her flowing, messy hair guiding her, she opened to take Lucius in her mouth, the gag reflex kicking in, but girl fighting it, afraid, terrified to mess up somehow. Her fingers which were closed around Malfoy’s glistening cock slid down, slowly moving at her clit to the rhythm the hand on Severus and her mouth were working to. A small tingle of pride went through her as she heard a muffled intake of breath - she was doing a good job...at least for now.

Snape looked down at the child on the floor, his mind clear despite the waves of sadistic pleasure that rolled over him. The girl was so lost in her senses, so full of wanton, so willing...yet so innocent. Hermione Granger was no whore.

Severus’s eyes rolled slightly as she switched to him, her hot mouth barely fitting his gigantic cock, her soft tongue swirling all around him, the tiny hand moving away from her clit to rest at the base of his cock. Unable to resist he took a handful of her silky mane, pushing himself deeper into her. She began to gag, her lungs desperate for air, but Severus cared not, pushing himself harder and deeper.

By the time Lucius gently pulled Snape away, the girl was gasping for breath, her wanton almost driving her insane, her hands reaching for more but finding only air. A sinister laugh sent a burning sensation down her spine, both of her abusers chuckling as they looked at her flustered face, her slightly pouting lips, her chest heaving.  Lucius picked her up as if she weighed nothing. With a flick of a wand she was bare, not a shred of cloth to cover her, her exposed skin being scratched by raw material of Snapes frock coat as he moved in behind her. Lucius smiled darkly as his nostrils flared at her sweet smell, the smell of her skin, her sweat, her hair, her lust. The tiny child was like a little doll begging to be used...and perhaps taught?

He set her on Severus’s desk, putting her across not along the length, swiping all the essays, parchment, quills and ink bottles to the floor as he circled the girl, his eyes taking her body in, the somewhat curvy forms of her hips, still with something childish in the waist, the breasts, made golden by the soft light of torches and candles, the shimmering eyes, watching from half closed lids, lashes throwing long shadows on her flustered cheeks.

Hermione, with her body still shaking, slowly moved to set herself on her elbows, her knees over the edge of black wood table, knuckles white from gripping the opposite edge, eyes glazed with lust. Her head fell back as she felt fingers enter her, and  Severus’s voice growl

 

“A virgin begging to be fucked, Ms Granger?”

“Please…..please” her words were coming out with moans, not sure what she was asking for, but begging. begging.

“Do you really want it little Gryffindor? Is it so?” Snape's voice was torturing her, one of his hands locking her right wrist own on to the table, her body screaming itself raw for release. Her left hand found Lucius, pumping him, her tongue reaching out, spine arched just to reach him, to take him, to pleasure him.

 

The moment before it happened Hermione felt like she was drowning in blackness.

A second later she moaned, screamed in pain, as Severus entered her, ripping her apart, shattering her to pieces, her hand and tongue never leaving Lucius's cock. The pain was terrible, the pleasure overwhelmingly incredible.

The girl’s hand matched the steady beat at which her Professor pounded into her, his giant member feeling like a white-hot iron rod to her no longer innocent womanhood. Hermione’s muscles began to contract, her toes curling, her womanhood eliciting hoarse moans from Snape as her muscles contracted and relaxed around him.

Lucius’s cock was now completely in her mouth, his ballsack slamming agains her face, the precome salty against her tongue.

The child felt like she breaking, like she was dipped into molten sunlight her orgasm so intense her scream echoing around the dungeons. She felt hot liquid erupt in her mouth and inside her, words lacking enough description, her mind going blank.

* * *

* * *

 

“Ms Granger. I do hope you found your punishment severe enough”

A twitch. a sigh.

“Yes Sir”

A grab, a moan.

 

* * *

* * *

 

..................................................................................“DETENTION MS. GRANGER! HOW DARE YOU!”

 


	3. Hiding

It hurt. Alot.

Hermione Granger grimaced at the cutting pain as she stretched in bed. Her arms lazily trailed her side, fingers suddenly touching a painful, bruised spot at her hips. Her eyes snapped open. All of a sudden there were countless questions in her mind, and even more pain as she tried to stand up from the bed.

Looking around she found that she was in the girls’ dormitory in the Gryffindor tower, the light barely breaking outside the window. It was early, and the slight chill of the morning sent goosebumps down her body.Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes when, awkwardly, she moved to the bathroom, steps small and uneven to reduce the heating pain between her legs.

She stifled a moan of pain, afraid to wake any of the other girls up, her body helplessly slamming against the doorjamb of the bathroom. Squeezing her eyes and fists in pained determination she made several steps and with the last jolt of strength locked the bathroom door behind her, slumping onto the fluffy bathroom rug, catching her breath. She desperately needed her wand, but for now, the small cabinet with healing and first-aid potions would have to do. With trembling hands she reached and uncorked the multi purpose healing ointment, taking a small amount onto her raw fingers and dabbing it on the most visible bruises and scrapes. Her knees suffered a lot during last night. Her mind was refusing to let her think of what happened. It was too unrealistic, to terrible, too awfully-amazing to admit.

She sighed with relief as the ache of her body slowly backed of, the bruises fading and only worry was the pulsating pain between her legs. She was too afraid to try to heal herself with anything but her wand.

Grabbing on to the bathroom sink-counter for support, she pulled herself up, avoiding the mirror, and turned the water on to fill the great tub. She still had several hours before the girls would wake up since much to her advantage, it was Sunday.

She stared at one spot, avoiding the mirror at all costs, distractedly running her fingers through her hair as she waited for the bath to fill up. With a bit of irony she thought about wandlessly summoning her wand, but her shaking knees and weak body convinced her otherwise. Instead she examined her skin one more time, noting with some bitterness that there were teeth marks that did not fade despite the healing creme. She sighed again,

Lowering herself into the scalding water she relaxed for the first time. Wrong move. Her mind burst with memories of the night, her good girl senses back in full gear, the guilt, embarrassment, and hurt all gnawing at her, burying their teeth deep in her soul and leaving more physical pain as the emotional canines buried themselves in the marrow of her bone.

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, her hands hugging her body, only one thought on her mind.

“What have I done?.....”

The whisper, full of anguish drowned in the silky sounds of water in the tub, and melodic chirping outside the castle. The morning seemed so unfit for how she was feeling. It was too bright, to happy, too cheerful for the little lump of blackness and despair that the child curled up herself into, rocking slightly, casing the now-warm water to raise and fall, splashing against the sides.

Sobs shook her body.

Hermione, the perfect exemplar of a student, a friend, a daughter and just generally a person, doomed herself to the very bottom of all pits. The events rolled passed her closed eyes like film set on reverse.

Her body was shaking uncontrollably, not caring if her crying will be heard by others. She didn't even struggle. didn't try to fight them. She let them use her. No, not even use her. She wanted it. She was initiative. She was disgusted with herself.

 

 

For another hour tears and pain felt like daggers in her chest. Finally taking a deep breath, she calmed herself, convincing, and forcing her mind to block all hurt and rather turn to apathy. She got out, dried herself, brushed her hair , ignoring the pain still lurking down her stomach. Her eyes caught her reflection in the fogged mirror.

She stood dumbfounded.

Her body. It seemed so womanly now. The full breasts with rosy peaks, the curvy hips, the flat, gentle stomach. She stared in fascination, the fingers of her hand reaching to touch the surface, trying to see if it was somehow lying to her. But no, the skin met cold, surface with drips of mist raised by hot water.

This can’t be me.

Her eyes met the eyes of her reflection. A slight gasp echoes the marble walls. Her face looked tired, the cheeks hollow and dramatic looking from the shadows that now danced on them, Dark shadows were also under her eyes. And her eyes. She leaned closer. They were so desperate, so full of pain, hurt, loneliness.

She pursed her lips together. Trying to change her facial expression, making it unreadable, blank, her fingernails dug into the soft skin of her palm..

 

 

When the girl exited the bathroom, no one would be able to read what was buried in the depths of her, She looked blank, perhaps a bit tired and shaken, but who wouldn’t be? She was the Head Girl after all, with all the responsibility and task.

Quickly dressing in a soft sweater and comfortable pants she placed her wand in her sleeve, determined to never go anywhere without it.Collecting all her schooling material, textbooks, reading notes, quills, ink bottles and much more, she stuffed all of that along with the protesting Crookshanks into her bag.

She threw Harry’s Invisibility cloak over herself, hushing Crookshanks. One thought was on her mind, painting a path she was determined to follow; she was going to distance herself from everyone, ignore everything and work, work hard to forget everything that has happen, work until she would consider herself to be the good girl she was before.

With steps light and treading she made her way through the still-sleeping Hogwarts, careful to avoid Misses Norris, FIlch or Peeves. Fifth floor, sixth, finally seventh. She quickly regretted that she did not carry the Marauders Map with her.

Turning a corner, the first thing she registered was the cold, shivering gusts of wind. The second was a tall man at the open window, his torso leaning slightly into it, a hawk sitting on his outstretched hand while his other hand fixed a small roll of parchment onto the bird. The wind tugged gently at the long, blond hair, the man impatiently yet gracefully shaking his head to clear it out of his sight.

 

She froze. Lucius. Blood thumped in her ears,

 

Malfoy finished with the message. Lifting his hand up with a small jolt, the man urged the hawk into flight. The gust raised by the bird’s wings reached the stiffened child.

The man closed the window, his fingers playing absent-mindedly across the collar of his robe. The girl felt like a piece of bile, a piece of ice was placed inside her rib cage; Malfoy was heading in down the hall she was standing in. His footsteps grew near, and she was ready to sigh with relief as he almost walked passed her.

 

She was too early to celebrate.

 

The man stopped in the middle of a step. His eyes closed, drawing in a slow breath. He opened his eyes slowly, looking around. Hermione barely held a scream - could he smell her? How? The wind from the window must have erased all her sent.

Apparently she was wrong. Lucius drew another breath in, letting it go slowly, his gaze scanning around, piercing right through her, causing her stomach to flip, The wind gusts did at least some good. Her scent. if there was any, was scattered and barely register able. Growing frustrated Malfoy took short breaths, pulling out his wand as he slowly spun around, checking if her missed something, anything.. His wand rested in a ready position in his hand.

 

She was doomed.

 

“Homenum Revelio”

 

Nothing happened.

 

The cloak did not fly of her, she wasn’t suddenly revealed. It was like the day was suddenly brighter, the fear stepping into background. He couldn’t find her. A familiar feeling of feeling clever sent a small, quivering smile across the child’s lips, her gaze following the man who shook his head in slight frustration and confusion as he continued his path wherever. Phew.

 

 

Few hallways and stairwells later she reached her destination. Walking past three times with a single thought concentrated in her mind she slipped into the small door, that was surely not there before.

Closing the door behind her, Hermione almost laughed with delight and relief. The Room of Requirements has really outdone itself. Carefully structuring her request as she made her decision in the Gryffindor tower, Hermione asked for the Room to “give a place where no one can find me”. Now the girl was looking onto a small, comfortable room that looked like it belonged to a beautiful cottage.

A desk, a great big soft sofa, a shelf with books upon books. She swallowed the lump that was in her throat from the moment she woke up. She could set this straight and would never remember what horror happened to her.

 

 

Hermione Granger has never been so wrong.


	4. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A snippet :) more posted later

No one seemed to notice that Hermione Granger was not in the dormitory that night, and the moon lit her face through as small window in the Room of Requirements. The child slept in her clothes, an ugly-looking cat protectively sitting by her, hissing from time to time at dust bunnies casting long shadows on the floor.

But, unlike those sleeping in the towers, the basement or even the dungeon her face was not peaceful with dream. A look of worry, fear, and pain changed her facial features every second. It was like she was still awake, the canvas of her skin seemed to show the bruises hidden by healing ointment. Her small fingers would clutch in small fists, her little body trying to protect itself in the abyss of dream, trying to push even further into the fluffy couch she was unconscious with sleep in. Muffled by sleep, small screams and moans would disturb the peace of the room, her rapid breathing worrying the single source of light, a small candle standing on a table with books, not too far from the girl. A look of terrible worry crossed the child’s face, a look so hopeless, so naive, so childish…

Hermione woke up with a start, her body jumping a bit as if she heard a twig snap. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, something from her nightmare still clinging on in the reality, It was all a nightmare. The beating of her heart slowed, and she lay back down - there was still some sleep to catch before it was time.

 

Little did she know, she woke up into a nightmare.

 

* * *

 

Monday came too fast, rolling in like a storm, greeted only by heavy lurking in Hermione’s stomach. Fixing her clothes with several quick spells, the girl tied up her hair in a high ponytail to keep it out of her face. She made sure to be out of the Great Hall well before Harry and Ron had made their way there. Quickly grabbing some breakfast she hurried back to the Room of Requirements on the 7th floor, having another hour to study before she would go to Transfiguration two floors down. The girl didn't need to reference her class schedule. She realized, with terrible dread, that it was Monday, and she had Potions with Snape, followed by Defence Against the Dark Arts with Malfoy.

With a great deal of self control she forced herself to blank her mind to anything but studying, nibbling a piece of toast as she sat crossed legged in a big armchair in her small getaway room, a book in her lap and a quill in the other hand taking notes. Crookshanks was curled not too far, sleeping, his tail dreamly twitching from time to time.

Sighing deeply she got herself ready for the day, going over all she read in her mind, and trying to think of a viable-sounding excuse as to why she was trying to be a hermit crab, and where exactly was she this night.

 

* * *

 

She held well the first part of the day, having to say only a couple of words here and there, hiding in the very back of the classrooms. She hurried out of the class before McGonagall could ask her anything, refusing to acknowledge the stinging tears in her eyes as she tried to burn the bridge between herself and the kind, old witch.

But as the last two classes of the day neared she could not hide her worry. Her hands would shake and her voice cracked when she answered question in class. Her heart seemed to turn into a pounding drum, blood thumping in her ears. Timidly going to the dungeons, Hermione kept her eyes down, trying hard to mix in with the cheerful, blabbering mass of Gryffindors. She succeeded in creeping to the furthest working table in the back without feeling that piercing gaze on herself. She kept her head down as she listened to the instructions given in the regular, vicious sarcasm-laced voice.  

Hermione got to work on the potion, her eyes ever leaving the table to only check the time on the old clock over the heavy, metal braced door. She became preoccupied with the potion, changing the heat when needed, adding this or that ingredient stirring it in the right direction or whispering incantations. After burning her already-hurt fingers twice, as well as cutting them multiple times, the child sighed with relief - the potion looked as described in the book, the look of “silver silk”, Looking much like cursed unicorn blood, it was supposed to heal even the most terrible damage inflicted upon humans. Getting out a crystal .phial she felt even more so a bit better to see that there were not even ten minutes of class left. Using a deep, wooden spoon she reached to take some of her potion to stopper it for grading.

 

There are those moments when an antelope freezes, not quite seeing the predator anywhere, but feeling it, feeling it with her instinct, her gut, ready to strike, ready to kill.

 

Hermione Granger froze.

 

She felt the presence of another person right behind her, could almost feel the breath on her neck. She was in the very back, and she could see every person in the class, all her classmates working, scrambling to finish, much like she was, preoccupied to look anywhere but the working table.

 

Her heart dropped. She could not see the Potions Master anywhere in front of her.

 

She felt the person behind her close to her, too close to her, his chest mere centimeters away from her back, his breath burning her exposed neck. Her hands we’re shaking uncontrollably now, the potion almost spilling as she tried to ignore the fact that the man behind her placed both his hands on either side of her on the table, locking her, his long white fingers clawing into the wood of the table. Tears of fear welt in her eyes, blurring her vision as she poured the potion into the flask, her hands not spilling a single drop, her movements robotic and mechanical to just get it over with. Her fingers were working the stopper in, entire body trembling against the great build of the man locking her to himself and the table.

 

“Ms. Granger……...” his voice was a hiss dripping with venom, with seduction, with stabbing pain.

 

Her eyes closed against her will, her entire body seeming to refuse to obey her, and obeying the predator. The crystal phial slipped. Falling, falling for an eternity.

It made contact with the stone floor with a dull clink of breaking glass and spilling potion. Heads turned to find Granger, on the verge of tears, and Professor Snape standing several meters away from her.

 

“Detention Ms.Granger.” Severus Snape seemed to take enormous pleasure at the words, the sadism seeping through, savouring every word escaping his mouth.

 

 


End file.
